


More Than This

by raeryn



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Identity Reveal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raeryn/pseuds/raeryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seems like she's not controlling it, but little did she know, Marinette is slowly but surely letting the fine line she set between her alter egos dissolve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! It's winter break and finals are finally over so I can get this fic finished. I had already written large chunks here and there for this fic since at least Thanksgiving, so publishing this fic might be pretty quick seeing as it's winter break.

She _needs_ to get over this stupid crush.

Marinette bangs her head on her locker for the seventh time that day (one for being late to school, _again,_ two for Chloe, and the rest for Adrien, but not in a row) and wonders why she had even fallen so hard for the boy.

 _Oh yeah,_ she remembers, _because he’s_ perfect.

When she voiced such thoughts to Alya, however, the girl had sighed and put her hands at her hips, tired of this endless conversation. “Marinette, nobody's ‘perfect’. And if you think Adrien is, then you're just not seeing his bad points.”

Marinette had almost argued that Adrien had none, but that was the point of this entire conversation. That was the fifth bang of her head. (Which is indirectly Adrien, but still Adrien, nonetheless.)

The seventh time she bangs her head, however, was because despite all of Alya’s protests on Adrien’s perfections, he is still amazingly wonderful. And just _too_ easy to like.

She had tripped over her words when talking him today, which is nothing new. He gave an awkward smile and laughed, which is also nothing new.

But she’s done. She is so _finished_ with being embarrassing and shy in front of Adrien. She hates her massive crush because she can’t even talk normally in front of him. If she could be strong and confident with Adrien, then _maybe_ she could have a chance with him. But not being able to speak coherent words in front of someone? Like anyone would love someone like that.

And so Marinette bangs her head on her locker for the seventh time that day, mourning her incapabilities.

“Girl,” Alya says, coming behind her. Marinette glances at her, her forehead still glued to the metal of her locked. Alya’s arms are crossed, eyebrows furrowed but she’s giving an exasperated smile. “Are you trying to get a concussion?”

“Maybe,” Marinette says. “At least then I won’t be an embarrassment. God, Adrien probably thinks I’m an humiliating moron.”

“Marinette,” Alya chides, holding her friend’s shoulders. Marinette lets herself be pulled by Alya until she’s facing her best friend. “Sure, stuttering in front of your crush isn’t the best, but you’re not embarrassing _or_ a moron.” She tips Marinette’s chin up, smiling. “If anything, it’s rather cute.”

Marinette gives a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, sure. Blabbing out nonsense is _adorable,_ ” she finishes sarcastically.

“I’m sure someone finds it cute,” Alya argues and wraps her arm around her best friend’s neck.

Marinette smiles sadly back at her and places a hand on top of Alya’s. “Not Adrien though, huh?” Marinette groans. “Why am I so awkward in front of only him?”

“Because you think he’s practically ‘perfect’ _,_ ” Alya reminds. She points a finger accusingly at her friend. Marinette looks at it dejectedly.

“I _know..._ but I really can’t help it. He’s just…” And it’s that _perfect_ moment which Adrien chose to walk past them and leave school. Obviously, he caught Marinette’s eye, and she kept staring at him.

It seemed evident to Alya, too. “Oh, _Mari,_ ” she said, shaking her head. “You _do_ need to get over this crush. At least, maybe to the point where you’re not obsessively fawning over him.”

Marinette hangs her head, lightly tapping it to her locker. She knows if she slammed it, Alya would scold her. But she counts it anyways. _Eight._ “I know…”

 

 

* * *

 

That night, after finishing her homework early (thank you for not assigning more physics homework tonight, Ms. Mendeleiev), Marinette goes up to the balcony, leaning over the railing to look at Paris’ night sky, thinking it'll help her mind get away from this _Adrien_ business.

It doesn’t.

So Marinette just stands there, putting away the fact she should be using her spare time to finish the design project that she’s already spent _weeks_ on to the far corner of her mind and racks her brain over this _stupid crush_ instead.

...Maybe it would be easier to give up on this crush. She wouldn't be a babbling moron that way, right?

But then Marinette tries imagining not looking at Adrien everytime he enters the room or stop reading the magazines that Adrien stars in. She can't even picture herself doing it! Giving up? That's hardly anything Marinette would do.

Still. She _needs_ to do something about the crush. She can't just have herself making a fool of herself for everyone to see. With horror, Marinette realizes that maybe half the class knows about her crush.

“ _Aaaargh,”_ Marinette groans, slamming her head on the railing (nine) and her hand clutches it as well, as her whole body sort of sinks. After a moment, Marinette lifts her head up, looking at the view just barely above the metal bar.

The last bit of today’s sunlight is just barely peeking over the rather small buildings when Marinette catches a figure in the edge of her eye. She turns, with the brief pondering if it’s Chat Noir. It turns out to be a mere bird, but Marinette still entertains the idea of seeing her partner in the area.

It’s a Tuesday, so it’s Chat’s turn to patrol. They decided to alternate the weekdays to squeeze in more time for homework, a conversation (she remembers, that she tried hard to avoid) they had after Marinette mourned over her dropping grades. (It seemed like Chat didn’t have that problem, Marinette thought, just a bit bitterly.)

She wonders if she would find her partner leap across Paris’ rooftops. It’s dark, and the chances of him nearing her bakery are low, but she could probably see a figure in the horizon is he’s near her neighborhood.

She smiles at the thought of that, of her partner going through Paris wherever he pleases, defending the city from any form of peril.

“Tikki,” she calls to the kwami on her shoulder. She's a little sleepy when Marinette looks at her; the creature is dozing just slightly on her shoulder, leaning against the folds of her cardigan.

Tikki opens her eyes. “Yes?”

“Got enough energy for a quick break?”

The kwami smiles lightly. “Maybe a bit. It'll be short, though.”

“That's fine. I just want to go for a spin.” 

 

 

* * *

 

It's his turn to patrol tonight.

But Chat Noir isn't really putting his mind to it. He knows Ladybug would scold him for that if she were here, but she's not, so that's okay. Just for a bit. There isn't any imminent danger right now anyways.

He doesn't really have any _real_ excuse for being out of it today. Other than the normal stress of work, school, and being a fantastic superhero, it's been all and all a pretty ordinary day. No traumatic disaster to throw him off his game.

Until he spots Marinette walking by the Seine.

She’s walking dangerously close to the waters, placing her foot over the other as she strides across the thin curb bordering the river.

He doesn't know much about his classmate, but he does know that she shouldn't be walking that close to the river, especially this late on a school night.

It's been a while since he last saw the light and he thinks his classmate should be home, finishing their physics homework or something. That’s his reasoning, anyways.

So Chat Noir decides to pay Princess a visit. He wasn't really focused on patrolling to begin with, and a little chat won't hurt right?

He might walk Marinette home too, if he's lucky.

 

 

* * *

 

She tries to ignore Tikki’s scolding.

“There are beeps for a _reason,_ Marinette” and “I told you it'll be short. Plus, you're using your powers selfishly—it'll drain faster!” and other reprimands from Tikki are just floating through her head, statements she knows already. But still, Marinette managed to miss all five warnings from her Miraculous and ended up releasing her transformation on the banks of Seine. She blames the late ponderings she had regarding Adrien (and her partner, thinking that she might be able to catch him) for distracting her so badly to transform in public.

Luckily, she hadn't been jumping (she _was_ about to jump on one of the boats lodged by; thank god her transformation had released earlier) when her transformation worn off. If she had, she’s probably be in the river by now. And— _to be_ fair _, Tikki_ , Marinette tries to rationalize—she _had_ (sort of) heard that last warning in last barest of moments and ducked under a bridge to release her transformation. She doesn’t think anyone really saw her. Besides, it’s dark.

Still, Mariette is probably either going to walk home or beg the streets for food (for Tikki, not her).

“And what's a Princess doing at night without a guard?”

Marinette whips to her left and finds Chat Noir perched on the railing. Her partner is smirking at, absolutely smug, like always. _Now_ she finds him, Marinette thinks distantly, a little annoyed. At least he wasn’t there when she lost her transformation; that would’ve been worse.

“What are _you_ doing at night without Ladybug?” What _is_ he doing? He should be on patrol, not flirting with citizens!

“Patrolling,” he answers simply.

“Really?” Marinette crosses her arms. “Doesn't look like it. Not very focused are you?”

Chat Noir chuckles and scratches his face a little. “Yeah, well, I'm a little distracted.” He leans in close, a hand at his face while his eyes dart side to side. “Don't tell Ladybug.”

The irony in that almost makes her laugh.

Instead, Marinette places a hand at her hip and raises an eyebrow. “Why? So she won't scold you? Well, it'll be well deserved. As a protector of Paris, you should take your patrols very seriously.”

Chat Noir laughs. “You're right, Princess. But it's my last couple minutes of patrolling so I think I'll be fine. What are you doing out here?”

“Just going for a quick spin,” she says, ignoring the fast vibration in her purse.

“Quick?” Chat Noir looks surprised. “You're a bit from home aren't you?”

“I guess I was lost in the clouds,” she defends. Of course she doesn’t mention how stupidly she acted as Ladybug.

“Makes two of us,” Chat Noir mumbles. He straightens and places hands at his waist, grinning. “Well, it's getting late and you're far from home. I hope you didn't actually plan on _walking_ back.”

Marinette flushes because she really hadn't. She sees that Chat guesses from the look on her face, she really has no other way home.

“Well then,” he says merrily, picking her up, “we’ll be off.”

“Chat,” she protests and has just enough time to wrap her hands around his neck. “Wait!”

He doesn't. Before she knows it, they're flying through the air.

 

 

* * *

 

Adrien admits, carrying a person across high rooftops bridal style wasn’t his best idea.

He’s trying to be charming, he rationalizes, which is why he thinks this is much more effective than piggybacking Marinette or something equally as uncool.

But as he makes it across a couple rooftops, jumping high and falling low, his arms are getting tired.

 _Great,_ he thinks, _smooth move._ Putting Marinette down now would be kind of awkward and telling her his arms are getting tired is both emasculating and rude towards Marinette’s figure.

However, luckily, Marinette stares at him as he makes it across another building, and he almost stumbles at the look in her eyes.

“Princess,” he says, trying for a smirk, “are you enjoying the night air?”

Marinette continued to stare at him, obviously lost in thought, and he briefly wonders what she's thinking about before he breaks the connection to look up to see where he's going.

“If you're getting tired, Chat, we can walk.”

So she caught on. Part of him wants to roll his eyes and curse at her perceptiveness while the other of him wants to roll his eyes and laugh at her perceptiveness.

He also tries not to smile at the “we”.

“As you wish, Princess.”

 

 

* * *

 

“So do you go on adventurous night walks across Seine by yourself this late often?” Chat Noir asks, trying to make light conversation.

Marinette looks at him from the corner of her eye. A small part of her internally giggles at her partner. _Dork,_ she thinks. “Sure,” Marinette answers, “why not? After all, it’s only on these ‘adventurous night walks’ do I get to be accompanied by a Paris’ superhero.”

“I’m not the only one,” Chat Noir makes sure to say and when Marinette turn to read his face , he’s smiling just a bit with a fond look in her eyes. The expression makes her heart trip just a little but Marinette makes sure to brush off any of that before continuing. “Ladybug, right?” she questions, as if Ladybug _wasn’t_ a famous image of Paris, as if she wasn’t her. “Why isn’t she patrolling with you?”

“Busy. Being a superhero isn’t all we do, you know.”

“I know,” she says and briefly wonders what Chat’s dual life is like. It isn’t easy for her; hiding from her parents and _Alya,_ her best friend, who is one of Ladybug’s biggest fan—isn’t simple at all. She hates it, but she knows she also needs to. But then she smiles brightly at Chat and asks, “So what else do you do?”

“Fancy an interview with me, do you, Princess?” Chat says slyly.

Marinette turns back to face the road and waves a hand away. “Oh please,” she says, “I’d be shoddy at that. That’s better suited for my best friend.”

“Of course,” Chat agrees in a voice that indicates anything but agreement. He gives her a look. “But if you ever want a personal talk…” Chat Noir pauses in his walk and holds up Marinette’s hand. She thinks he’s going to kiss it again but instead he just holds her hand in between them and stares directly into her eyes, “I’ll be here to talk.”

“Okay, Chat Noir,” Marinette replies, playing along. “I’ll be sure to grab Alya too; she’ll be wanting an interview with the famous black cat.”

“ _Purrfect,_ ” Chat says and Marinette rolls her eyes. She takes her hand back and starts to walk again. “Does she want one with Ladybug too?”

“Duh,” Marinette replies, but obviously she doesn’t mention how Alya already got one. Yesterday, too, Marinette had finished her patrol early with extra time on her transformation to spare and met Alya on the sidewalk of a street. She quickly chatted with her best friend for a couple minutes before leaving. And of course, the girl had videotaped the whole thing. It was on the blog before Marinette had even gotten home.

“Then maybe I’ll ask her to see if we can get a dual interview.”

Marinette entertains the idea of the Parisian duo getting interviewed by a 15 year old who’s still in school while the professional reporters are rejected. She internally smiles at the thought of Chat taking the interview by storm, with his flirtatious smirks and expressions, him winking at the camera.

Marinette laughs. “I’m sure she’ll love that.”

Chat stares at her but Marinette keeps looking ahead. Soon, she sees the family bakery up ahead.

“This your home?”

Chat stops on the road before the small shop. Seeing it under the night glow of Paris with Chat Noir makes her a smile a bit.

Marinette nods. “Can you bring me to the balcony up there?” At Chat’s raised eyebrow (mask?) she explains sheepishly, “I snuck out. My parents still think I’m doing homework.” She _could_ get up there herself, as Ladybug, but not only would bringing Tikki out to transform her another eyeroll and small scolding, but also Marinette _does_ want to spend a little bit more time with her partner. She gets enough of him when she’s a superhero, so it’s nice to see him act just a little differently around her. It makes her giggle when Chat tries to impress her with the “savior of Paris” persona and it’s endearing to know that Chat is very thorough in making sure she gets home safely.

Chat shakes his head, a small smirk playing at his lips. “A princess sneaking out to walk across the Seine that far away from her home under the pretense that she’s doing homework? It’s amazing how your parents haven’t figured it out yet.”

Marinette rubs the back of her neck, smiling a little. “Well, my parents _are_ bakers. They need to get up at at least four in the morning if we want to sell fresh bread. So they sleep early and generally don’t notice my disappearances.”

Chat gives her look and Marinette almost slaps her hand on her mouth. She had just implied she snuck out often. She feels her face burn; letting Chat Noir know she’s sneaking around isn’t a good thing, she thinks.

“Well, let’s still get you home.” Chat holds out his hand this time, instead of invasively soaring through the air with her in his arms. Not that it _was_ too badly intrusive—only a little jarring. Marinette’s long ridden her minor fear of heights, and it’s not that she doesn't trust Chat, but she trusts herself more.

“Okay,” she says slowly and places her hand in his. She feels the smooth texture of his leather suit and when Marinette looks back at his eyes, his startling green eyes is piercing. Marinette has a sudden desire of wanting to know who it is behind that mask, who it is she risks her life with to save citizens.

But when Chat smiles and bends down so he can carry her on his back, Marinette brushes the thought away, knowing that not knowing is for the better.

She climbs on (a little self-conscious, but this is Chat; she knows she’s in good hands), placing her hands around his neck. Chat Noir needs his hands to hold the railing so Marinette just awkwardly wraps her legs around her torso. She feels just a bit too close to him, but he’s only carrying her to her room. She tries to ignore her slight rush she feels in her chest.

Chat Noir jumps, and her heart soars a bit at the movement—a feeling she’s not unfamiliar with as Ladybug. When his hands catch the railing, Marinette involuntarily tugs against Chat Noir’s neck due to the momentum. She feels her partner slip a little, the action probably a little too strong.

“Sorry!” she squeaks, both embarrassed and scared. Any harder and Chat might’ve lost his grip.

“It’s no problem, Princess,” he says smoothly and Marinette stares exasperatedly at his back. _Always the charmer,_ she thinks, knowing that her slip up caused Chat more anxiety than he lets on. “Just hold on, okay?” he adds, placing a hand at her thigh and lifts her up just slightly. Chat Noir keeps his hand low, Marinette notices. She smiles a bit at his consideration, despite that if Chat places his hand higher, he would’ve had a better hold.

“Here we go,” Chat grunts as he climbs over the railing, with his right hand moved to Marinette’s the back of her knee so he could hold her better. When Marinette makes it to the safe floor of her balcony, she turns back to look at Chat Noir, who’s still sitting on the metal bar.

“Do you want to come in?” she offers, a little hesitant. She doesn’t know if that’s for the best, but Marinette does know she doesn’t mind a some kitty company.

However, Chat Noir shakes his head. “No, I better go,” he answers and Marinette nods. “I was supposed to finish patrol almost thirty minutes ago and there are probably people wondering where I am. I better go before I make more trouble.”

“Okay,” she says, “I’ll see you later, then?”

Chat Noir smirks. “Definitely.”

This time, he does take her hand and kiss it, but his eyes still never leave hers. “I’ll see you later, Princess,” he murmurs, repeating her words, “maybe sooner than you think.”

And with that, he leaps off her balcony, leaving Marinette’s heartbeat a mess.

 

 

* * *

  

“What was that, Marinette?” Tikki demands, coming out from her bag as soon as Chat left her balcony. “You could've scaled the building yourself as Ladybug or not tell him about your parents! I thought you wanted to keep your personal lives separate?”

Marinette fiddles with her fingers, heart pounding. She does. She really does. Chat finding out who she is isn't the best situation, she has to admit. She doesn't know how Chat Noir would react if the two people he thought were different people were actually one.

Of course, her most trusted partner is considerate and kind, despite his jokes and flirtatious words. She would trust him with her life, so why not her self?

But then...then there's the fact that Chat knows her as a superhero. As a lady who would not hesitate for second before jumping of a building because she knew she would catch herself. A person who was confident with people and didn't stutter at a 7.0 on the Richter scale.

She doesn't know how Chat Noir would react. She would rather not find out.

“I...don't know,” Marinette confesses. She doesn't want Chat to find out. So why bother telling him so much?

She knows. She knows she wants Chat to know her, to see how he would react with her true self, her alter ego. To see if he was a flirt with any girl, to see if he would see Marinette the same way as he saw Ladybug.

“I want him to see me,” Marinette decides. “I want to see Chat to see Marinette Dupain-Cheng, not Ladybug.”

Tikki doesn’t say anything and Marinette continues to sink into her own thoughts as she packs her schoolbag for the next day. She’s bidding Tikki goodnight and turning off her lights but her mind is still swarmed over her partner.

Marinette lies in her bed, closing her eyes and trying to force herself to sleep but she can’t help the fast beats that she can hear so loudly in her ears.

Her heart’s pounding, and for the first time in a while, it isn’t because of Adrien Agreste.

 _Perfect,_ she thinks sarcastically.

Marinette bangs her head into her pillow—which is soft so she suspects Alya won't scold her if she were here—and muffles her groan.

Her day ends with the tenth bang of her head, but this time it's for Chat Noir.


	2. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Adrien and Marinette deal with the aftermath of their actions, and Alya reveals an interesting proposal to her friend.

 "Here you go: today’s schedule.”

“Thanks, Nathalie.”

Adrien listlessly scrolls through today’s events—all of which is ordinarily boring. Typical. The closest thing to exciting he has in this picked out day of his is the cancelled shoot on Saturday.

Adrien takes the liberty of exiting the application and briefly skimming the day’s news. Fashion is always at the top recommended, so Adrien quickly flicks his fingers, not particularly concerned with what new design was on the market today.

His eyes briefly caught the words “chiffon scarf” and “Cyté” and other words he didn’t really care about.

Sighing, Adrien decides not to finish skimming the top headlines and clicks the tablet shut, setting it aside on the table. He leans on one his hands, picking through his food and eating slowly. Neither his father or Nathalie is here to scold him for so anyways.

He suddenly wonders what it would be like seeing Marinette at school today. It’s the first time he visited her as Chat since the incident with the Evillustrator. Would she look at him with wonderings, already figuring out that she was Chat?

Adrien laughs a little to himself. He was careful.

Still, he should keep an eye on Marinette, study her movements and expressions to see if it gives away anything. Marinette always wore her thoughts on a sleeve; if she knew, Adrien thinks he would know in an instant.

It’s not like he has anything against Marinette knowing who he is. But there’s so many possibilities with her finding out that Adrien’s not even sure if he wants to go there. She’s the first classmate and citizen Chat had visited personally _plus_ she’s close to him. If it was any other civilian who lived far away or didn’t come in contact with Adrien Agreste often, he wouldn’t be so worried.

Marinette isn’t stupid. She would be able to figure it out. If Adrien doesn’t take precautions, he might just let more slip than he planned on.

“Adrien?” Nathalie calls. She’s back in the dining room. He looks at her, waiting for her to continue. His father’s assistant points to the door. “You should be going now.”

Adrien glances at the clock on his phone and scrambles to stand up. “Shoot!” he says, wiping his mouth with the napkin left on the table and slinging his bag over his shoulder, making a mad dash for the door. “Thanks, Nathalie!”

 

 

* * *

 

Marinette is scowling at her poor sketchbook.

Which doesn’t deserve any of her ire, really. She came to school early for once, and decided to take notes of some ideas she came up with whilst going to school. Marinette always forgets them if she didn’t jot them down, after all.

She had drawn out a black belt on a yellow dress and suddenly, Marinette was thinking of Chat Noir and taking out her annoyance by drilling holes into the paper with her eyes.

Stupid cat and his stupid lines and his stupid actions. She thought it was fine; she thought she was able to brush off his antics.

Apparently not.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?” Alya asks as she slides in the seat next to her, looking to her side to put her bag down. Then she smiles at her friend, expectant.

Marinette sighs. “Nothing much. Just running out of ideas.”

Lying about her dual life is practically natural now.

“Mm,” Alya says understandingly. She snaps her fingers, pointer finger directed at the designer. “Mom mentioned something about a showcase during breakfast this morning. Maybe Le Grand Paris is sponsoring one?”

Marinette takes a glance at Chloe’s empty seat. She’s not here yet. “You would think Chloe would be blabbing about it already.”

Her best friend shrugs. “Maybe she didn’t know? Or didn’t care?”

“A fashion showcase? Adrien’s probably in it, and Chloe hasn’t shouted to the entire class yet? Tell me, is the….”

Alya laughs. “Okay. Anyways, do you want to go? It’d be good for inspiration.”

Marinette furrows her eyebrows. “Are we even allowed to?”

“I can probably ask ma for tickets.”

Marinette beams widely. “That’d be great, Alya, thanks! You’re the best!”

Alya grins back, relieved at her best friend’s change in mood. “I know.”

 

 

* * *

  

Adrien doesn’t think Marinette has a clue.

Or at least, he hopes she doesn’t.

As he makes it into the classroom, he notices Alya chatting animatedly with her best friend, talking about who knows what. When Adrien closes the door behind him, Marinette lifts her head, catches his eye, blushes, and looks back down.

He really hopes she doesn’t have a clue.

But it’s a normal reaction, Adrien tries to tell himself. Marinette is usually that way around Adrien Agreste, smiling hesitantly and usually blushing. It’s not because she knew he was Chat Noir just after one visit.

He probably shouldn’t visit her anyway. Like Ladybug would say, it’s dangerous. For more reasons than one. Letting it spiral out of control, revealing secret identities...Adrien laughs quietly to himself; he can clearly picture Ladybug’s scoldings and paranoia, even though she’s not here.

“Morning, man!” Nino cheerfully greets him when Adrien sets his bag down and takes the seat next to him.

Adrien smiles kindly. “Good morning.”

“Anything good happen last night?” Nino asks conversationally. Adrien darts his eyes to the girl beside him. His body involuntarily lurches in a way that isn’t exactly unpleasant when Marinette blushes. Her ears are burning red and he can’t help but the grin that falls on his face.

“No, _nothing,_ ” Alya says, depressed. “No Ladybug, no Chat Noir, no attack— _nothing._ ”

Nino laughs loudly. “Is your life determined by whether or not the superheroes of Paris decides to make an appearance?”

“An appearance where I _see_ them _,”_ Alya corrects, waving a finger. “I bet one of the two will always make a show somewhere in Paris at night. I know they’re very dedicated in what they do.”

Adrien feels delighted when he hears the blogger say that. It’s nice to know someone knows how the superheroes are like, that they actually have feelings like dedication and aren’t automated fighters that may be taken for granted.

And just because he had a particular attention on Marinette, he sees her smile brightly too. Adrien feels another rush—it seems Marinette agrees that they work hard. That thought makes him elated, too.

There’s a unanimous agreement among the four of them before Nino throws them into the direction of another subject. Adrien doesn’t say much, just nodding and smiling and offering a couple opinions here and there, but it’s really Nino and Alya who are taking the the conversation by storm. Before he knew it, the two were in a hot debate, and Adrien can barely remember what it was about.

Marinette, like him, sits in her seat without talking much. Maybe she doesn’t want to interfere? Adrien doesn’t think she’s shy, at least, she doesn’t seem like it. The way she talks to to class as class president is proof enough. Still, the two of them don’t contribute much to their conversation.

He catches Marinette looking at him several times—all of which ending with her hastily turning away from him when she sees that he’s looking.

 _Don’t look away,_ he wants to say, _don’t be intimated._

That’s his theory anyways. That Marinette is intimidated by him. Why wouldn’t she be? She is a designer. At least, Adrien thinks she is. (That win for his father’s competition wasn’t a fluke or a whimsical design of a bored student.) And Adrien? He’s a child model for one of Paris’ top fashion lines and his father was a renowned designer. _Of course_ she would be intimidated.

Oddly enough, she’s not so by Chat Noir, Paris’ one and only male superhero.

Instead, she’s firecracker. Not taken by his one liners, like he expected (she _had_ initially swooned when they first met), not blinking in the face of danger.

It’s so intriguing. She’s so different from his expectations that it inevitably strikes his curiosity.

He had endured Plagg’s teasing (which, in some way, can be stretched to be called “scolding”) for visiting her at Chat Noir but it was worth meeting the other side of her again. Sure, Marinette has plenty of fire with their classmates, but Adrien never feels the burn personally.

Though no matter how much he’d like to feel that warmth again, Adrien knows that he shouldn’t visit her again as Chat Noir. Or at least, keep them to bare minimum. Just the very thought allows a vivid scolding to ring through this mind— _Do you_ want _to put those you care about in danger?_

Adrien smiles to himself. Ladybug’s fire can still hold a candle in his mind, even without her here.

_Fire._

The sudden epiphany makes his body jerk. Adrien freezes. It had been just a thought, but....

Adrien glances behind him. Marinette is laughing with Alya, her blue eyes bright, her black pigtails bouncing on her shoulder.

His heart almost stops.

 

 

* * *

 

Despite Alya’s attempts of encouragement, it doesn’t stop this... _Chat_ problem.

She had wanted to keep him at arm’s length. She had pushed away any of his attempts of flirting, or only replied with the same level of teasing. She had hoped Chat Noir wasn’t serious.

Marinette still likes Adrien. She doesn’t know how relieved she was when Adrien had walked into class this morning, smiling at her, and she felt her heart thump heavily. It was like a huge weight had been lifted of her shoulder—there, one misconception, gone.

“What’s wrong with Chat Noir?” Tikki asks Marinette during lunch that day. Her mother isn’t eating with her today; she needed to tend the shop.

“Besides the high expectations he holds in his eyes and the whole secret identity business? We’re supposed to be superheroes. What if I get distracted or let something happen? What if people start talking about us?” Marinette puts her head on her hand, propped up by her elbow. She uses her fork to point at her kwami. “I’m not stupid; I know how this works. I have a reputation uphold and I like it just how it is.” Marinette looks back at her untouched food. “No one knowing a personal thing about me.”

“Marinette,” Tikki chides, sitting down on the table. “I know I told you that the secret identity was important if you wanted to keep your personal life and everyone in it safe, but it isn’t bad to blur that line. It isn’t also the best to prevent anyone from knowing either.”

“It isn’t the worst either, right, Tikki?” Her kwami doesn’t reply. She sighs. “There isn’t a great solution to it, but I’ll just keep it like this.”

“You don’t need to be so afraid of it,” Tikki tries. “It’s good to be cautious, but remember Chat Noir is also your partner.”

“ _Ladybug’s_ partner,” Marinette corrects. “Not Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s. He shouldn’t have anything to do with her!” She scowls, setting the fork down and crossing her arms. “What was he thinking, anyways? Ditching patrol to walk a girl home—I mean, chivalrous, but he has a responsibility to the city!”

Tikki giggles. “Aren’t you a citizen? Technically, he wasn’t do anything wrong.”

“Everything’s wrong about it,” Marinette mutters. Her helping Chat with an akuma fight—that was fine. Walking her home? She could do that by herself, no matter how much longer it would take.  And now, _now_ that Marinette’s practically dissolved the line between “helping out a superhero with super villains” and “allowing a superhero to do trivial tasks” she doesn’t know how much further he would take it. That cat had no limits, after all.

“I still think you’re thinking too much into it,” Tikki says. “Chat Noir wouldn’t figure out who you are after a couple meetings.”

“I guess…” Marinette agrees reluctantly. She glances out the window. “I _hope…_ ”

 

 

* * *

  

Alya gets back to her— _fast._

It’s only expected of the girl; her best friend is always fast on the move, first on there, first one to know. “All part of being a journalist,” she says, “you got to be in the loop.”

“The showcase is for anybody to come,” Alya informs her over the phone. Marinette listens closely, nodding even though she knows Alya can’t see her. Her finger taps against her table, almost impatient. “And it isn’t at the Love Hotel; it’s some other location that my mother’s coworker is catering for. It’s also not for professionals, just amateurs. That’s why Chloe hasn’t bragged yet—it’d be for ‘ _losers’._ ”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “You’re right; that _is_ something she would say.”

“Adrien probably won’t be in it,” Alya continues, voice sad, understanding, “considering Gabriel Agreste is everything but an amateur.”

“Oh yeah,” Marinette replies, realizing. “You’re right. Aw, and I was looking forward to seeing him; it’d be my first time seeing him modeling in an actual event.” Despite Marinette’s effort to see Adrien as much as possible, she had only ever been to a several of his outdoor shoots. She desperately wanted a chance to see a legitimate show—maybe one with a catwalk, like the ones they have in movies. That’d be incredible.

“I know,” Alya sympathises. “But at least you can focus on the showcase designs. No need to be distracted by a certain blond, right?”

“ _Alya!”_ Marinette scolds, sitting upright and looking at her phone admonishingly, despite that Alya isn’t here—isn’t the phone. She hears Alya laugh through the line and Marinette reclines back in her chair, sighing. “You’re right though.”

“Of course,” the girl agrees smoothly. “It’ll be good. The showcase is great for inspiration for your design block.”

“Design block?” Marinette repeats, giggling. “That sounds terrible.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s a real thing.” But Alya’s chuckling a little too. “Anyways, I’m accompanying you to the showcase right?”

“Duh,” Marinette replies, “unless you don’t want to.”

“Endless lines of fabrics, unnecessary layers that one doesn’t really need to cover themselves...Obviously I’m going.” Marinette grins at Alya’s comment because she knows her best friend will still come with her to the event in a heartbeat. “Besides, I can’t leave you alone to the wolves can I?”

“Wolves?” Marinette asks. “They’re models and designers, not animals.”

“Given the competition in the fashion industry?” Alya clicks her tongue. “You’ll be wearing their hides like a champion.”

“You just said you can’t leave me alone with them.”

“Yes,” the girl agrees, “but we both know you can take them. It’ll just be easier with me at your side.”

Marinette snickers. “Okay, but there’s also plenty of competition in other fields, not just design and fashion.”

“Yeah, but we don’t have talons for nails.”

“Oh, Alya, _stop,_ ” Marinette scolds, though her voice indicates her glee. “Animal isn’t even in right now.”

“And you know what else isn’t in? My essay. Turned in, that is. You finished yours yet?”

Marinette glances back at her computer screen, already dimmed from her inactivity. “ _No_ ,” she scoffs, “It was assigned just hours ago.”

She can feel Alya shrug. “Hm, you could be, for all I know. You get things done quickly, even if you are absent-minded.”

Marinete groans. “Okay, but I’m not done with this one. We have two days to finish it, and I’m probably too busy to finish it today.”

“Two days—like that’s any time to write a superb essay. Can you believe Ms. Bustier?”

“I know, but it is a short paper. Two pages or something?” Marinette turns back to her computer to scroll to the requirements.

“Two and a half, but that’s basically the same thing.”

“Ugh,” Marinette declares, spazzing out and giving her keyboard some random spasms. “I barely understand the prompt. But I can’t even worry about that!” Marinette glances towards her tablet, where she knows a set of physics problems is ready for her to complete. “I hate physics.”

“Are you just going to whine about every aspect of school now?”

“C’mon, Alya, I know you don’t like the amount of problems we need to do either.”

“Well, _duh._ What’s up with not giving us homework the other day then _bam!_ Firing two pages to be due tomorrow? I rather have them split up.” Marinette nods in agreement before realizing she’s on the phone. She verbalizes her opinion. “Hey!” Alya shouts making Marinette jump two feet into the air and dropping her phone harshly on the table.

“Alya!” she hisses. “Don’t scare me like that—what if I cracked my phone?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Alya points out and Marinette grimaces. It’s practically a given, since she’s so clumsy. “Anyways, isn’t Adrien good at physics?”

“What is he not good at?”

“Calming down the heart of an enamored 16 year old,” her best friend quips and Marinette decides she should rethink Alya’s best friend title if she keeps teasing her. “Why don’t you try asking him for help?”

“ _Me?_ Me, Alya, the girl who can barely talk to him without foaming with words at the mouth?”

“Foaming with words—sometimes I wonder, girl...It’d be a good start! To get over your stuttering, anyways. Why don’t you ask him to the library so you _need_ to focus on your homework and you can’t talk too much! It’ll squeeze out all your opportunity to go gah! _Uhh—_ bleh…”

“Alya, sometimes I wonder if you live to tease me.”

“If you want it to stop, Marinette”—she can hear the wide grin and excitement in Alya’s voice—“then all you need to do is find a way to talk to him, build a friendship, and snag a boyfriend!”

 _“A formula for success!”_ Marinette shouts, and the both of them dissolve into laughter.

 

 

* * *

  

After an hour and a half of chatting with Alya over the phone, Marinette realizes with horror she’s barely started her homework. And she has a generous amount. _And_ it’s her night to patrol.

Marinette briefly considers the benefits of letting Chat Noir her identity—they’d have each other’s contact information (actual social media ones, not some ancient kwami transformation communicator) and she’d be able to ask Chat to patrol for her.

Then Marinette shakes her head, annoyed that she was weakened by _homework_ , pats her face a little harshly, and scolds herself to be more responsible.

“You’re a protector of Paris,” she tells her reflection through the black screen of her computer, “not a lazy student.” Then she promptly picks up her tablet pen and tries to force her way through as many tedious physic problems as possible.

Surprisingly, Marinette does manage to push herself through the mass evil known as homework. She finishes dinner and almost all the work that’s due tomorrow before nine, and heads out to patrol. Her parents are asleep already, so Marinette’s safe.

Patrol is quiet. Chat Noir isn’t here to bother her with his endless puns, so she only has the cool, night air to keep her company. It’s just a bit chilly, considering winter is coming along the way, and Marinette makes a mental note to bring a scarf or something before her next patrol. And get a cup of warm tea ready in her room when she gets back—that would be excellent.

The rest of the night is silent. No robberies, no harm done, no nothing. _Maybe I blamed Chat Noir a little harshly,_ thinks Marinette, though she only did so mentally and never really made it verbal, _since Paris_ is _calm right now._ There was probably nothing wrong with walking a young girl home, considering nothing bigger occurred during his shift.

The first beep goes off at around ten (Marinette had caught a glimpse of a clock when she fled by a cafe) and Marinette jumps up to turn and make it for her home.

When she gets back, Marinette softly sneaks downstairs for any sign that her parents were awake, that they knew she was out.

None.

Smiling and relieved, Marinette bounds for the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“Great patrol, huh?” Tikki asks as Marinette squeezes toothpaste.

“I guess. Nothing bad, anyways.” After rinsing her mouth, Marinette wipes any excess liquid with a towel. “Though I guess you could say it was boring.”

Marinette internally braces for the scoldings of her kwami, thinking she’d hear things like “being Ladybug isn’t about having _fun_ ” but it doesn’t come. “Maybe you could ask Chat Noir to join you on patrol again,” Tikki suggests instead. Marinette blinks at her.

“I have school,” she reminds, “it’s easier for both of this way, since we have more time.”

“I guess there are ups and downs,” Tikki decides, but with an extra tone in her words. An air that Marinette can’t really pinpoint. She narrows her eyes at the small sprite.

“Don’t suggest that again, Tikki,” Marinette says, just a little whiny and more playfully exasperated, “I’m fine with the way things are. If things change in the future, fine, but leave it for now.”

She ignores her kwami’s eye roll as they both head back to her room. Marinette packs her bag ready for school tomorrow and before she clicks of her light, Marinette glances at the trap door above her.

 _He didn’t visit,_ she thinks, and Marinette feels a wave of anxiety when she realizes she’s not as relieved as she thought she would be at the finding.

 

 

* * *

  

“Another quiet night,” Alya sighs as she sits down.

Marinette turns to her, a little jolted. She had the same thought. The girl laughs a little, prompting her best friend to demand “what”.

“I had the same thought yesterday,” she explains.

Alya grins. “Best friends share a mind, after all.”

“Of course.” Marinette takes out her homework, scanning through her finished words. “Quiet only because of the homework?” Her finger continues to scroll down the screen, tapping and swiping to see all the pages that she _hasn’t_ finished.

Alya groans. “You got that right. I still haven’t started the essay.”

The black haired girl feigns a large gasp. “ _You,_ not starting a paper?” She slaps a hand to her mouth to increase to act.

Alya grins. “I know; it’s practically a crime. But I’ve been busy. I had hope to catch Ladybug or Chat Noir last night, but no such luck.”

She casts her friend a look. “Don’t tell me you went out to search for the heroes?” At Alya’s nod, Marinette groans. “Please prioritize your time, Alya!”

“I am!” Marinette shoots her a look. “I _am._ I can finish the essay in a day, easy. I rather not miss a good chance.”

Marinette only groans again.

“Speaking of not missing good chances,” Alya begins, giving the nervous girl a sly look. “Why don’t you grab this chance to speak to Adrien?”

“ _What_ chance?” Last Marinette checked, there wasn’t any. Related to their essay anyways. Ask him to edit? Which is absolutely absurd. Besides, she had plenty of chances to speak to the boy, all of which she had botched.

“The showcase. Adrien’s likely not to be in it, but why don’t you ask him personally? Get a confirmation. It’ll give you a good chance to talk to him!”

“About _fashion?_ ” Marinette doesn’t know how that will go. If it’s about fashion and design, Marinette’s likely to start rambling about all her favorite designs and designers, which can only prove to be totally mortifying. The boy was a model, a fashion _idol!_ His father is one of the lead CEO’s in the industry, for goodness’ sakes! She’s just submitting herself to the chance of making a bigger idiot of herself than she already is.

“Yes, you dork,” Alya says. “And no thinking about how you’re stupid or embarrassing or anything! Fashion—that’s _your_ field! You’re great at it and you won’t be intimidated, no matter how good looking you think he may be.”

She said the last part like a joke but Marinette sighs anyways. Alya had caught her, _again._ As always. “Okay, okay,” she whispers, mainly to herself. “I’ll do it next week! It’ll give me time to prepare a script.”

“Next week—a _script?_ Do you _hear_ yourself?” Alya shakes her head. “Girl, you have to take a chance by its reins before you chicken out.” She points to his empty seat. “C’mon! Just tell him after class! It’s not like it’s a confession; just ask him if he’s going to be there or not!”

Marinette takes a deep breath, trying steeling herself. “You’re right,” she breathes, “you’re right.” Alya nods furiously. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”

“That’s my girl,” Alya grins, looping her arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “No script, okay? We know how badly that ends.”

Marinette looks at the brunette, smiling sheepishly.

 

 

* * *

  

When Adrien enters the room on Thursday, the girls who sit behind him at chatting endlessly again. Not for the first time, Adrien wonders what they’re talking about.

Today, they stop when he came in. Curious, Adrien looks at them questionably. The best friend exchange glances before Alya breaks out in laughter and pushes her friend’s back while Marinette ducks her head. Adrien keeps observing at her, hoping he could decipher his classmate’s body language that, evidently, only the two friends can understand.

Marinette peeks at him from her bangs and waves her hand slightly. “M-morning,” she says.

Adrien blinks. He almost sighs—there’s no more fire. Maybe it had only been a one time thing with his alter ego? Or maybe Adrien had overthought it. Either way, his hope was diminishing. It would, actually, if he hadn’t made a trip out as Chat Noir last night.

Adrien notices Marinette staring at him, expectant. He turns face into one that he’s become very accustomed to: kind expression, small smile, always closed up. “Morning,” he replies.

The bell rings again, effectively cutting off any chance of conversation between them, and Adrien settles down, making sure his homework and pens are in order.

As class begins and as the lecture drones on, Adrien sneaks a look behind him.

Not for the first time, Adrien wonders where Marinette had been at nine last night.

 

 

* * *

  

“The showcase?” Adrien asks.

Marinette’s nodding frantically, head ducked. Adrien scratches his neck.

This was unexpected. Sure, he knows the girl likes fashion, but with his mind stuck on Ladybug and her identity, Adrien doesn’t actually know what he expected his classmate to say when she approached him.

“Ahh...actually no, I’m not.” The girl in front of him raises her head, looking forlorn. “I heard it’s going to be a great show though!” Adrien informs, hoping that’ll bring Marinette’s spirits up. She’s a designer, right? Surely she’ll be delighted to know that. “I think there’s going to be several designer students there, ones you can ask for advice?” Actually he’s not sure about this, but typically there is. Since it’s amateur showcase (one that his father had turned down sponsoring, he remembers), it’ll probably be more open to accepting questions from the audience.

“Really?” Marinette asks, eyes brightened. Adrien silently gives himself a clap on the back. Her hands are wrapped into soft fists in front of her chest, evident she’s trying to contain her excitement. “That’ll be amazing!”

“I’m sure you’ll like that.” Marinette blushes furiously and Adrien retraces his step. Did he overstep a boundary? “Because you like design. Right?”

“Y-yeah,” the girl replies, her head bent down again. “Thanks for the info, A-Adrien.”

He offers one of his small smiles. “No problem, I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

 

 

* * *

  

“Do you mind taking over my patrol next Saturday?”

It’s finally Friday night, the first time she sees Chat in a week. No akuma fights this week, so Marinette’s missed all the time with her partner. And while she does wish she can see him more often, they both know the consequences to that. It’s hard to maintain a level head in all of this, but she remembers, she’s a hero. Marinette needs to know where her responsibilities lie as one.

If her request confused Chat, he doesn’t show it. “Not the following?”

“No, the one after,” Marinette clarifies. She cocks her head. She had expected Chat to ask her why she couldn’t make it to patrol. Chat Noir is constantly curious, after all.

 _Curiosity killed the cat,_ Marinette thinks briefly, because it had fit so well. Then she internally groans. Her partner is definitely a bad influence.

She must’ve shown her displeasure on her face, because Chat Noir looks at her confusedly, concernedly. _Well,_ she relents, allowing a smile to just barely grown on her face, _curiosity isn’t a bad thing._

“I’m attending an event,” Marinette tells him.

“My lady…?” Chat Noir begins and she knows he’s about to tell her that she doesn’t need to explain, that her secret identity is safe.

But it’s fine. It’s just a little sharing.

“I never get to go, since it’s usually a type of thing for professionals and what not, but my best friend had found one I can go to without needing a heavy reputation.”

“You have a best friend?” Marinette raises an eyebrow (she hopes it shows through her mask). Chat holds his hands up. “Right, of course. Well, that’s great!” Chat Noir beams widely at her. The ends of his lips are spread, his teeth are showing; it’s plainly obvious that he’s genuinely happy for her.  It’s contagious. Marinette can’t help the grin that stretches across her lips. Chat’s smile fades into a pensive pursed lip. “You know, you could always go as Ladybug or something. Then you can attend, if that’s something you really wanted.”

“I wouldn’t want to abuse my alter ego’s privilege. And I think if I go as Ladybug, I won’t even be able to see the pieces properly—I’d be bombarded with fans asking for autographs, people wanting to take my picture…”

Chat Noir nods. “I know you hate the attention.”

Marinette sighs wistfully. “It’s all part of being a superhero, I guess.”

“Well,” her partner says, putting a hand at his hip and grinning confidently, “rest assured that eight days from now, Paris will be in good hands.”

“I know,” Marinette agrees, fondly looking at the boy. The silence is broken when her earrings beep. “Patrol’s over. Take care, kitty.” She takes out her yo-yo and sails into the night.

When she sneaks a glance behind her, she can see Chat Noir’s small smile.


	3. Bam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When her friend's life falls in danger, Marinette struggles to maintain her secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, _sorry!_ I had this chapter written out a while ago, but I got busy in the past couple weeks, couldn't tie the loose ends of the chapter until now. Thanks for reading!

Alya calls her out to hangout on Saturday.

“No occasion for the blog today,” Alya announces, “and I got a scoop with Ladybug on Monday. Although I want to look for more...I’ve got the time for my best friend. Let’s go out!”

Marinette smiles at her enthusiasm. “Sure, since we have so little to do for physics this weekend.” It’s a miracle, really, considering how Ms. Mendeleiev already didn’t assign homework on Tuesday and now Friday. (Or maybe she’s just being generous. Either way, Marinette’s making the best out of this chance.) Maybe she should use her free time off to finish the projects she’s been working on. But first, she should hang out with her friend. After all, a weekend off with no homework and no saving is rare, especially considering the time and effort Alya dedicated to her blog. “I’m thinking of going out to buy some things. Stationary, clothes, _cloths_ for projects…” Marinette counts off her fingers, squishing her phone between her ear and shoulder. “You want to go to a fabric store?”

“And watch you decide between two spools of thread that look identical to me? No, thanks.”

“Alya!” Marinette whines, exaggerating a bit. She grins as she continues to converse with her best friend. “I can make you something cool as payment. Winter’s coming soon; you want gloves? Mittens?”

“You trying to bribe me?” She can hear Alya’s smirk over the call.

“Of course not!”

Alya sighs. “I'll come with you on the boring shopping trip for _string,”_ she agrees but Marinette knows Alya’s faking the annoyance in her tone.

“ _Oh,_ thank you!” she says with just as much exaggeration in her voice. There's a brief pause before the two friends dissolve into laughter.

“Okay, Beaugrenelle at 10?”

“It's a date!” Alya says. Marinette hears the phone click and sets her cellphone.

“Wow, a day off!” Tikki says, buzzing in front of her. “Planning on finishing that sweater?”

“Yep! And don't tell Alya,” Marinette adds, shooting her kwami a sly look (Tikki snorts; as if she could), “but I'm planning on making her a knit hat. She says she's not cold, but I'm sure when she's chasing after Ladybug and a Chat Noir, Alya will be sure to get cold.” Marinette picks up her purse to make sure she has enough money. Pouting, the girl continues, “I _was_ planning on making gloves because she's definitely going to get frostbite with the amount of time she used her phone but it turns out she already has some. The one has thinner fingertips so she can use her phone easily. I wonder if a hat is worse; I didn't like it as much.”

“Marinette, I'm sure she'll love anything from you!” Tikki waves her hands animatedly. “Plus, it's handmade. From her best friend! I wouldn't worry too much!”

“Thanks, Tikki.” Marinette beams widely.

“Marinette?” she hears her mom call her from below. The young girl jumps, and hastily ushers Tikki into her bag.

“Yes?” she calls tentatively.

“Can you help out with the bakery for a couple minutes? I need to use the restroom!”

Marinette quickly looks at the time—9:02. She's got plenty of time. “Sure!”

When she makes it downstairs, her mother thanks her with a relief. “What's wrong, mama?”

“I probably ate something bad this morning. Don't touch the leftovers!”

Marinette nods, glad she hasn't eaten breakfast yet, as her mother leaves and walks into the bakery. She picks up an apron hanging on the wall next to the door.

“Hello, papa,” she greets. Marinette puts on the apron and makes sure any locks tucked under it isn’t.

“Marinette! Wonderful—ah, could you take over the cashier? I want to replace some of the breads.”

Marinette does as he asks, smiling at the next customer and repeating their order, clearly stating their price.

It’s a couple minutes after 9:30 when Marinette’s head shoots up to the nearby clock and screams, “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” She scrambles to take of her apron, angrily brushing off the flour on her shirt. Her mom finished with her bathroom break eons ago but Marinette ended up staying in the shop.

“Late for what?” her mother asks.

“Beaugrenelle!” she exclaims. “Alya invited me to go shopping today!” Marinette throws the apron back on the hook and goes into the house to grab her things. “Oh!” Marinette pops back out, sticking her head to look at her mom. “Can I go shopping with Alya today?”

Her mother sighs. “Only because you asked ahead of time.” She smiles at her daughter’s aghast look. “Hurry and go. You’re going to miss all the trains. _And_ you’ll need at least thirty minutes to get there, considering traffic.” She shook her head. “You’re late for sure.”

“Ah!” Marinette screams again. She manages to get her purse (and Tikki) on her without running into any hard objects and hurting herself. “Okay, I’m going to go. Bye, mama!”

“Wait!”

Marinette screeches to a stop and her mother exasperatedly walks up to her. “Here,” she says, brushing her daughter’s hair. “You had flour on you.”

Marinette looks up, as if she could see it. “Ugh, I hate that. Thanks, mama, byebye!”

“Byebye,” Sabine replies. When Marinette leaves, she crosses her arms, smiling.

Her daughter may be super, but she’s still a bit hopeless sometimes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He hadn’t come for sweets.

Adrien knows that if Plagg was out here with him, he would never hear the end to his teasing. But he wasn’t; he was currently residing in Adrien’s ring, so that was okay.

Marinette wasn’t on her balcony and she wasn’t in her room (he had knocked—no answer). It was only morning so Adrien wondered if Marinette was in the bathroom or something. So he lounged on her balcony, waiting for her. He periodically checked to see if she came back into her room. Adrien knows it would be more convenient for him, he doesn’t want to intrude too much on his classmate’s privacy, even if the trap door is unlocked (he had checked, but hadn’t looked inside).

Though the thought of surprising her by sitting on her chair has passed through his mind several times.

However, after maybe twenty minutes, Marinette never showed up. Chat thinks that definitely too much time in the bathroom, even if Marinette is a girl. Then again, Chloe always spent hours, but then again, Adrien thinks that he shouldn’t use Chloe Bourgeois as a standard.

Adrien hops off the balcony building, just in time to see a girl run out the shop.

He sighs to himself, knowing he just missed her. Looking at her fading figure, Adrien softly smiles to himself.

She probably had more important things to do on a weekend than entertain a cat.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clothes to buy, fabrics to shop for, a food trip with Alya—Marinette had a lot of plans.

But none of them included _this._

“ _Alya_!” Marinette screamed.

“Don’t move!” the robber shouts, tightening his grasp on Alya’s neck. She’s holding on to the very arm, trying to make it budge, but it won’t. Alya’s glare is like an ice grip, but the masked man still doesn’t drop the gun.

Alya isn’t afraid, but Marinette sure is.

She can’t transform—not without two people finding out who she is. But she’s not willing to risk Alya’s life just to protect her secret identity.

“Hand over your bag!” the thief demands, readjusting the gun barrel at Alya’s temple.

Marinette’s frown deepens as she takes a step forward (the action of which made the man press the gun even closer) and places a hand at her purse, where Tikki resides. Her heartbeat is thumping in her ears and she’s desperate to figure out what to do.

Ladybug can work under pressure. She’s done it so many times, what with the crazy, insane materials lucky charm throws at her. She’s pulled through, practically every time she deals with an akuma. But never before has her friend been this close to being threatened. This isn’t an akuma—this isn’t something she could fix with her Miraculous. Any damage done here is permanent.

 _Calm down, Marinette,_ she tries to tell herself as she continues to slowly withdraw her shoulder strap. _Think through this._

“Hurry up!”

Tikki is in her bag. If she hands the bag, she can just get her fingers to the clasp, she can transform in an instant.

 _Here goes nothing,_ Marinette hopes, fingers at the clasp as she extends it towards the robber. Her finger is cramping up, from the slow movement and trying to open the bag without the man noticing.

But just as she’s about to open it and transform into Ladybug, a shadow falls in front of her and Marinette jumps back, shrieking.

“Chat!” she yells.

“Your knight’s here, Princess,” he says, but he’s not looking at her and his tone says that he’s burning with fury. “Let the girl go.”

“Or what?” the robber questions, pressing the barrel even harder at Alya’s temple. This time, Alya winces.

“Stop!” Marinette says and makes the mistake of taking a step forward.

The robber notices it, but instead of shooting Alya’s brain out, he brings an arm to muffle Alya mouth. His nails are digging into her skin, Marinette sees, and at the pain reflected in Alya’s eyes, she ready to transform and swing her yo-yo at the man’s head to knock him unconscious.

But Marinette isn’t the only one with bravery here. Alya bites down at the man’s hand, who starts and suddenly, the gun isn’t aimed at her head anymore. Her best friend makes a smart move of ducking, and the gun’s pointed high in the air.

Marinette doesn’t even get a chance to make her own pay back by transforming or something of the sort so she can hit the man with something threatening because Chat Noir’s already charging at the man with his baton.

He’s down with one hit and Chat looks down at him. When the superhero lifts his head, his green eyes are filled with anger.

“Alya!” Marinette shouts, rushing towards her friend. She’s on the ground, probably scraped her skin when she fell, but other than that, she’s fine. “ _Alya,_ ” she repeats, hugging her. “Are you okay?”

“More or less,” Alya grumbles, wiping her mouth. “Can’t robbers at least use the soap they provide in public restrooms? That was so gross.”

Marinette laughs, but it’s kind of choked. “Oh, I’m _so_ glad you’re okay.”

“Me too, but I’m still upset. I wish I got to videotape Chat Noir take out the guy.” Swiftly, Alya’s phone is out, camera on Chat. “How was facing a gun with nothing more than a stick?”

But Chat Noir wasn’t nearly as ready for an interview as Alya was giving one. The look on his face still reflected his ire. “What were you two doing here?”

“We’re okay, Chat,” Marinette tells him, hoping to soothe the outrage evident in his figure. “We were just going for a shopping trip.”

“In an alleyway?”

Marinette cringes. They had been taking a shortcut. Besides, the chances of getting mugged in Paris, especially in broad daylight, isn’t very high. Marinette hadn’t thought too much about it.

“Sorry for making you worry.”

Chat Noir huffs and puts a hand at his hip. “Well, just be more careful okay? Who knows where Paris will be without its beautiful ladies.”

Marinette lets herself smile because at least he’s a little bit more relaxed, even if she can still see the furrow in his eyebrows.

“So what were _you_ doing here, Chat Noir?” Alya questions, making sure to make the most out of this meeting.

“Watching  the city. Making sure people are safe. Getting rid of the bad guys with guns. You know, the like. It’s all very busy for a superhero.”

Alya laughs. “I’m sure. Have time for an interview?” she asks and Marinette catches Chat’s eye. She’s sure he’s thinking about the conversation they just had a couple days ago. Marinette raises an eyebrow, shooting him a look. _Told you so._

“I would love to give one, but I don’t have time now. I need to go.”

“I thought you said you were simply patrolling the city?” Alya questions. Marinette frowns. They _do_ patrol the city together on weekdays and usually during the night. She didn’t know Chat made his own patrols often.

“Exactly. The other wonderful citizens may need my help. I’ll see you ladies later.” Chat Noir gives a two finger wave before leaving.

“I do hope so!” Alya calls as Chat Noir leaps over them. “I finally got to film a video! It’s been too long.” If five days was considered long, that is.

The girl spins around, eyes on Marinette. “You think we still have time to go shopping?”

Marinette smiles, worry still in her eyes. “Sure, since my purse wasn’t stolen.”

They walk out of the alleyway and Alya takes out her phone. No doubtedly to rewatch and upload to Ladyblog.

“You called him Chat,” Alya remarks. Her hands were still on her phone, fingers playing with the screen, but her eyes were concentrated elsewhere. “Something you’re not telling me?”

“Ahh…” Marinette says, racking her brain. “He saved me once and we spend a while talking?”

“Mhm…” Alya says, not at all believing her. “Then the whole city would be calling him Chat.”

“It’s just the first half of his name, Alya, not a lover’s nickname.”

“For all I know, it could be!”

“Alya!” Marinette scolds, hands at her hips, “you know I like Adrien!”

“How could I forget?” Her best friend ( _some best friend,_ Marinette thinks) has the nerve to mock her by imitating her usual expressions when Adrien is in the vicinity.

Marinette sticks a tongue out at her friend. “You would think that after being held at gunpoint you would be traumatized and have better things to do than to gossip about my love life but no.”

“Hey, being a sacrifice and saved by Ladybug and Chat Noir already tops anything a mediocre robber can do. I bet the gun wasn’t even loaded,” Alya responds haughtily, waving around her phone.

Marinette stares at her nervously. “You want to _bet_ that…?”

“Well, obviously not with the gun pointed _at_ me,” Alya explains, giving the girl a pointed look. “Point is, the two superheros and a supervillains tops a gun any day.”

Marinette pauses in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering any possible pedestrians, seeing as there were none. She places both her hands on Alya’s shoulders and looks at her. “Alya, _please_ be careful. Take your life a little more seriously! I don’t know what I would do if I lost my best friend.”

Alya looks at Marinette with a concerned smile. “You too, Marinette. I was scared for you too.”

“I wasn’t the one with a gun pointed at my head!”

“He asked for your money. And threatened you.”

“With _you,_ Alya, _you!_ My bag is nothing compared to your _life,_ Alya!” Which was somewhat untrue because _Tikki_ was in her bag but if all went according to plan, then Marinette would’ve been able to transform and get Tikki out of there. But point was her bag—her money—was nothing in comparison to her best friend. Marinette rushes forward the hug her.

“I’m okay, Marinette,” Alya says, patting her. Alya breaks the hug and pulls Marinette away, but her hands still at the shoulders. “I’m okay and hey. I do take my life seriously. I wasn’t _actually_ thinking I was going to die. But if I did, I’m worried about you.” Alya squeezes her cheeks. “What would this babbling moron do if I died? The repercussions would be _so_ heavy.”

“Exactly, Alya,” Marinette says through stretched cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do without you. Don’t take this as a joke!”

“I’m not, Marinette, _seriously.”_ She releases the girl’s face. “It’s just that I know you wouldn’t have let anyone hurt me, but I was unable to do the same to you. Being held at gunpoint and all. But it’s in the past, Marinette! Let’s not think too much about it and finish our shopping trip, okay?”

“Okay...But I’m treating, since you’ve just been through a traumatic experience!”

“Then I’ll be paying for the food, since _you’ve_ just been through a traumatic experience.”

The two friends glare at each other for a brief moment before breaking out in giggles, and Marinette links her arm in Alya’s as they rush into the entrance of the mall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Following Marinette had been impulse, one that he was a little ashamed to do, but in the end, he's glad he did so.

Finding his classmate being pinned at gunpoint had made his blood run cold. It was broad daylight; what was the man thinking? Sure, it _was_ an isolated alley with no one near, but anyone could’ve seen them if they just made a turn in to the alley. After all, _he_ had seen them. Granted, Chat Noir had the ability to see from a bird’s point of view, but still. It wasn’t discreet at all.

Must’ve been desperation then.

Adrien replays the scene in his head. Marinette had been handing over her bag—a typical robber-and-victim routine. He wonders, if Marinette really _is_ Ladybug, would her kwami be in her bag? It’s where he kept Plagg, after all. Ladybug might just do the same.

Then again, Ladybug would never hand over her kwami. If she fought ‘till she broke to protect the city and her Miraculous, there was no way she would just give them off to some lousy thief.

Adrien sighs as he seamlessly transforms backs to his civilian self and opens the door to the photoshoot. He’s late by a couple minutes, but his father left for a conference in Milan this morning, so he hopes he’s safe. Adrien searches for Nathalie, thinking maybe he could use the bathroom as an excuse. He find her talking to one of the photographers and his excuse works smoothly. Nathalie nods and instructs him to go to the makeup room, as if he didn’t know what to do already.

As the makeup artist pats him with foundation or some other nude powder, Adrien can still feel his body burning with annoyance. Just thinking about it makes him feel faded ire. Before he knew it, his fists were clenched.

“Someone rip your designer jacket?”

Adrien looks up. The makeup artist is smirking at him. Another beat, his attention is back on the brush that’s patting Adrien’s face.

He looks back down at himself and chuckles lowly. “Something like that.”

“Well, don’t worry about it.” The artist bends down, leveling his line of sight with Adrien’s. He pats his cheek lightly with the brush again. “It’ll be fine but _you_ won’t if you’re scowling like that. You’ll get premature wrinkles and no one wants that on a model. Besides”—the makeup artist spins his chair around to face the mirror—“it’s showtime, and you need to _smile,_ not scowl.”

He’s pushed off the chair.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Marinette transform backs to herself after a quick night of patrol with Chat Noir, she hears her phone vibrate below her, still sitting on her desk where she left it before she headed out to patrol. It’s lighting up from unread texts. She picks it up, scrolling through Alya’s missed calls and pestering texts of telling her to reply.

“What, what, what?” she texts back. A second later, her cell rings and Marinette picks it up, only to hear Alya’s excited screams.

“I think Chat Noir reads my blog. _The_ Chat Noir!”

Marinette gapes. “What? _Reads?_ As in, currently?”

“ _Yes!_ Can you believe it?”

“How do you even know?”

“Someone left a comment—‘I’m still waiting on that interview. Until then, stay safe’ it says! Who else could it be?”

“A person who’s playing a prank?”

“‘Your savior’ the name says.”

“If the guy’s trying to play Chat, then wouldn’t it be obvious to say ‘your savior’? I mean that _is_ what he does.”

“And leaves a gun and cat emoji?”

 _That certainly is like Chat_ , Marinette thinks. Maybe it is him. Chat Noir never showed any apparent disapprovement of not wanting to interact with the citizens and letting them to know him better, despite her many protests.

“Okay, I see your point. Why would a superhero of Paris use his time to comment on a blog though?” she asks, though Marinette knows it isn’t much effort for Chat Noir to read the blog. He probably _does_ read it; it’s not hard to believe. But the thought that he follows it, that he’s updated daily with it. Marinette feels a cold chill run down her back. Is Chat looking for Ladybug?

She turns away from her table and to the window. The black haired girl hears her best friend animated share her theories from a distance, but as Marinette looks out the pane of glass into the dark night, she wonders if she should share more of herself to Chat Noir. They’re partners, after all. She would trust him with her life—with her _Miraculous._ Why not her identity?

Marinette scowls. She let herself be influenced by emotion again. She _knows_ why she can’t. There are just too many things that are unpredictable with her identity revealed. Sure, there are _good_ points, but Marinette doesn’t even want to think about the consequences sprouting from the bad.

“Marinette?”

“Yes!” She stands up straight and almost _salutes._ “Sorry, Alya. I was lost in some thoughts.”

Alya’s sigh comes a little harshly through her phone. “Not anything new. What were you thinking about?”

“...Chat Noir,” she says honestly. Marinette doesn't continue, wondering if she should just let Alya draw her own conclusions.

“You two aren’t a thing, are you?” the brunette asks and maybe she _shouldn’t_ let her friend use her imagination.

“Alya, I already said no!” Marinette can already feel the skin under the roots of her hair burning.

“Just checking and you should already know—you better tell me if anything _does_ go on, alright?”

Marinette doubts that. Even if sometimes does happen with Chat Noir, she can’t explain away most things without revealing her secret. But still, she replies “sure” and her mouth has stopped feeling like sand—drastically different from the first time Marinette had lied to her best friend. Another price of being a superhero.

“Good. And another thing. If you do talk to Chat Noir again—don’t even deny it, Marinette, I know you do, or at least _did—_ ask him if he follows the blog, okay? And if he does, tell him I’m really flattered!”  

Marinette smiles. That much she can do.

Little does Alya know, Chat Noir might not know Alya’s gratitude yet, but at least one hero of Paris does.

And she’s sitting in her room, filled with just as much gratitude as the blogger.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

That night, she’s up on her balcony, lost in thoughts once again.

It’s been a long day, Marinette thinks. Between the bakery shift and rushed trip to the Beaugrenelle on top and _Alya’s gunpoint incident,_ and finding which fabrics and which clothing to buy and Chat’s possible blog viewership, Marinette is exhausted. It’s only nine, so she’s not ready for bed quite yet, but as she leans across the metal bar, Marinette can feel the fatigue wearing on her body.

Watching the Parisian skyline from her balcony always provides her some comfort; it’s one of the reasons she had begged her parents to give her this room so she could have such easy access to the balcony. (Though she did hide her excitement for an accessible exit for Ladybug needs from her parents when she discovered her Miraculous.)

“Beautiful night, isn’t it, Marinette?” Tikki chirps besides her. She flies happily around the balcony, smelling all the flowers Marinette had laid out.

“Yeah, I guess,” Marinette breathes. It _is_ beautiful, but with her mind so preoccupied, Marinette can’t fully enjoy it.

“You guess? Well, I’m sure.”

Marinette turns her body to the side slowly. Partially because she already knows who it is and decides that whipping to the right may just give him too much satisfaction in scaring her but also because Marinette can take advantage of this movement to check in the corner of her eye if her kwami is hidden behind the potted plants.

Chat Noir’s eyes are bright lights under the darkened night glow. The smirk he has on his lips is wide, but it isn’t shining like usual. Marinette eyes his shoulders and his fake cat ears and furrows her eyebrows. Deciding to relieve some of Chat Noir’s tension, she places a hand at her hip, feigning annoyance “I hope this doesn’t become a daily occurrence, kitty.”

It kind of works. Chat Noir gives a slightly wider smile, but Marinette can see that he’s still upset. “Why? It’s good protection,” he says.

“I have enough protection,” Marinette mumbles to herself. Even if Chat Noir does get over this and realize they were safe, Marinette is sure that she would never live this down. _“Remember the time I saved you from gunpoint?”_ she can hear Chat asking, just years from now. She was perfectly capable of handling the situation!

“I know,” he mumbles with an air of quietness that Marinette hadn’t expected. She twirled on him, curious. His eyes didn’t reveal anything, except for the colossal concern shining behind the green lenses.

“I was worried, y’know,” Marinette quietly admits. “I was _so_ scared that he was going to hurt Alya.”

“I know,” Chat Noir repeats and Marinette understands the mass of words not spoken.

“Even though…”—she takes a deep breath, much of the air practically choking her lungs—“even though I thought I could—that I _should.._ .be _able_ to…I really thought Alya might actually die.”

“Hey,” Chat Noir tells her, nudging Marinette’s shoulder a little with his, “she didn’t. And you did good. Didn’t rile up the petty robber or anything.” He grins wide, eyes bright, probably with hope that she’d do the same. “She’s safe, you’re safe, and you _would’ve_ been able to protect her.”

Marinette peeks at him, tears staining the corner of her eyes. “You think?”

“I _know,”_ he replies to his partner, laughing when she finally giggles. “ _There!”_ he shouts with glee. “You laughed.”

“It’s not like I haven’t been,” the girl retorts. “ _You’re_ the one who hasn’t been laughing.”

“What?” Chat Noir asks, immediately defensive. Her heart soars a little—Marinette can feel them falling back into the typical playful banter routine, even if is more usual with Ladybug, not Marinette. “I am! See?” As proof, Chat Noir brings his finger to his lips and points to the stretched edges.

She laughs. Marinette touches his wrists with her fingers and he lowers them a little. “Oh, please, kitty,” the girl replies, “that’s hardly a smile.” Cocking her head, Marinette reexamines Chat’s body language. _Still stiff,_ she thinks. Marinette moves her hands to his shoulder, looking at him in his eyes and Marinette can see the confusion reflected in them. Then she squeezes, not even bothering to smother her guffaw when the superhero yelps.

“You’re tense, Chat,” she states, and pokes the area slightly below his shoulder. Chat jerks that side away from her, rubbing it as if she shot him. He pouts and Marinette places her hands at her hips again. “Oh? A superhero of Paris, and you can’t even handle touches from a young girl?”

“That was hardly a _touch,_ Princess.” He says her name sarcastically, as if the name is unfitting. “With pokes like those, it’s hard not to believe that you can have such a title.”

“Are you saying that I’m strong?” Marinette grins. _See? I_ can _take care of myself,_ she hopes Chat can read from the expression. “Thanks; you reconsidering my nickname?”

“Nah,” Chat Noir decides, “a princess title doesn’t mean they aren’t strong.”

His statement brings her back to her original worry. Marinette looks at his face again. “Chat, I’m okay,” she softly tells him.

His hand brushes her bangs, just a bit. “Just making sure.”

“You’re not happy.”

“No,” he disagrees, “I am.”

She narrows her eyes and flicks his forehead. “Fine. Then you worried.”

Chat sighs and holds on to her wrist to prevent her from flicking her fingers again. “I was.”

“But you’re still distressed about it.” He doesn’t answer. “Hey,” Marinette says, but Chat’s face is still downturned. “ _Hey._ I’m fine, you’re fine, Alya’s fine—we’ve been over this right? I’m strong right? We’ll always be fine.”

Catching the downturned dull in Chat Noir’s eyes, Marinette continues, “I laughed a lot today with Alya. She kept making fun of the different types of fabrics I wanted to buy at the store.” The aspiring designer smiles fondly at her hands. “Which was _so_ incredibly _rude_ but the shopping trip was fun.” Marinette folds her fingers around the metal bar and twists her body a little so her face is facing him again. A small smile plays at her lips and her eyes are shining. “Thanks to you.”

“I know,” Chat Noir says. Marinette’s eyes narrow at his tone.

“Don’t get too cocky now, kitty. I’m just stating it as it is.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves away, “sure. But either way, you and Alya are safe and had a _pawsitively_ wonderful time. And c’mon. You didn’t think Alya was rude—you knew your best friend was only joking!”

Marinette laughs outright. “Okay, _fine,_ you’re right. Alya _was_ just joking. You know her well,” she teases, kidding a little.

Chat Noir stiffens which is _beyond_ strange. He would always reply with the same, if not incredibly more, amount of jest. Marinette tilts her head, trying to study him. _Did_ he know her well? It had to do with his secret identity, definitely, and Marinette knew she shouldn’t pry. But still...the thought of Chat Noir knowing Alya—what were the chances that he knew Marinette as well?

Then again, Alya is pretty famous. Online, anyways. Because of Alya’s ability to get such good videos of Ladybug and Chat Noir, Ladyblog’s hits have been increasing exponentially. Then the request Alya had made a couple hours ago repeats in her head.

“Do you follow the blog?” she blurts.

Chat Noir’s mask goes up a little. “Ladyblog?” Marinette nods and Chat Noir guffaws, loudly. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”

“Hawkmoth, probably,” she quips, and Chat Noir chuckles again.

“You never know, maybe he does. It’s blog that’s set on finding out who Ladybug is, and that’ll probably help him.” Here, the edges of Chat lips turn down and his face scrunches up, as if he just had a thought. “That’ll be bad though. For us.”

Marinette freezes. Chat Noir said “us” and he obviously meant Ladybug, not Marinette. But the way that he didn’t make the clear distinction unnerves her.

“That’s true…” She speaks slowly, still trying to get a good read on his facial expression. However, Chat Noir’s good, because in the dim lighting, she can’t seem to get anything but a simple stare through his eyes. _It’s the mask,_ Marinette thinks, frustrated, _And he_ has _to have those green lenses. It practically blocks out the entirety of his face!_

Then Marinette realizes with a screeching halt that she was trying to _figure him out._ An unpleasant chill runs down her body and the young superhero is suddenly furious with herself. _What are you doing?_ she’s mentally berating. _Chat Noir is honoring your wishes and what do you do? Wish his mask didn’t exist!_

She exhales heavily, rough and ragged. The entire day has been one whirl storm after another. With Alya...with Chat Noir. Abruptly, a wondering makes its way to her head. “Chat Noir, why do you visit me?”

His smile is cheeky. Complacent and cheeky. “Why shouldn’t I?”

 _I can give you a million reasons._ “Why _should_ you?” Marinette counters.

Chat Noir’s grin falters a little and he presses them into a thin line. “I wanted to see if you were safe.”

“So this’ll be a one time thing?”

“Princess, this _hasn’t_ been a one time thing.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “It’s only been a two time thing, and I’m hoping it won’t be more.”

“Ah, ah, ah. It’s not good to lie to people, Marinette,” he says, wagging a finger teasingly, and even though Marinette blushes, she takes his words seriously. _Tell me about it,_ she mourns, thinking about the countless of times she’s betrayed Alya and her parents and many others.

“It’ll stop when you’re safe, Marinette,” Chat Noir says at last. She doesn’t know what to make of that. Why her? There’s millions of people in Paris and Chat Noir makes this decision.

“What about Paris?”

“I can’t very well visit an entire _city,_ now can I?” he jokes but Marinette doesn’t smile. Chat Noir’s eyes turn sober and he’s looking at her with kind eyes. “I’ll stop when Paris is safe too.”

“Y—you—” Her heart nearly stops. “What?”

“Worried you won’t see me anymore, Princess?” He chuckles when Marinette scowls and Chat Noir supposes the face is supposed to deter him but instead his heart warms. The hero pats her head gently. “Don’t worry. There will always be bad guys, even if they don’t have evil spreading butterflies and ridiculous names like ‘Hawkmoth’. I plan on staying for a long time.”

“Good, because Ladybug always needs a partner.”

The hand on her head stills. Marinette’s heart sinks to her stomach. Did she give away something?

“Do you know Ladybug?” he asks after an awkward, pregnant pause.

 _Shoot,_ Marinette screams, _shoot, shoot,_ shoot! “I—”

“Ah,” Chat Noir interrupts her, holding a hand up, “let me guess—Ladybug doesn’t want me to know?”

She doesn’t know how to answer that. Saying anything might reveal more than Marinette is mentally prepared for.

Chat Noir regards her for a beat before inclining his head. “No worries, my fair princess—” Marinette rolls her eyes, deeply—“you don’t need to answer that.”

She cocks her head, looking at her partner.

“Chat—” she says with sorrow in her voice, but she doesn’t get far. Chat Noir’s ring beeps and Marinette sighs. He catches it and when his eyes perk with excitement, the girl nearly groans.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she warns before he even has the chance to get cocky with her. His face falls with mock hurt before a grin grows on his face. Marinette taps his nose. “ _Go,”_ she tells him, “before your Miraculous runs out. Or before you make another smug remark—or worse, a stupid pun.”

“You won’t find them stupid one day, _purr_ incess,” Chat Noir remarks before he’s leaping over the wall. He grins from the other side, waving goodbye. “Stay safe!”


	4. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gah, this is short, _sorry!_

Ladybug soars over the Parisian night and for the first time in a while, she feels free.

 _Because of Chat,_ she thinks angrily. It’s because of her stupid partner that she only gets to feel this way now.

Chat Noir with his _stupid_ eyes and _stupid_ grin making her confused. She thought she loved Adrien. She knows she still does. But when she looks at Chat now, she can feel the flush that shoots through her body and the humming she hears in her ears.

 _It’s not fair,_ Marinette thinks, as she lobs over high building, her face already warm despite the cool air. She’s tried to push Chat so far away, to keep their relationship strictly business and saving the city (with a little caring friendship here and there) and now—now _this._

 _The stupid, flirty cat,_ Marinette practically screams in her head and then she’s using her yo-yo to grab hold of a pole and she flips around it, doing a somersault in the air before landing on the floor. Her gloved hand touches the cement of the streets and with jolt, she realizes where she is.

The word _Agreste_ makes itself visible under the small light of the streetlamps.

How in the world did she end up _here?_

With a little thump, Marinette realizes that she hadn’t been paying attention. With her mind on Chat, she wasn’t focused on patrol at all. Suddenly, another fuse of anger goes off inside of her, and she’s cursing her partner to hell as hooks her her yo-yo to one of the street lamps near the fencing of the Agreste Mansion.

She’s about to leave the area when, in the corner of her eye, Marinette catches a small figure move in a light. The brightness isn’t caused by any streetlamp; its illumination is the lighting in Adrien Agreste’s room.

Marinette’s breath catch just at the sight of the boy and she almost loses her hold on the lamp. She manages to swing herself up and land on the tree across from Adrien’s bedroom window.

Adrien sees her.

He walks to the windowsill, opens it up and waves. Should she wave back? She doesn’t know Adrien, at least, not as Ladybug.

He’s still looking at her.

She waves back.

“Ladybug!” he calls—she knows she’s still likes him by the way she feels when she hears her name—“What are you doing here?”

They’re at least ten meters apart, but Marinette hears him perfectly fine. Yet, she still takes her yo-yo and to swing forward.

“Wait!” Adrien shouts. He holds up a hand and leaves the windowsill so she can’t see him anymore.

After a couple of moments, Adrien reappears. He beckons her to come with his hand. She does.

When she lands in front of him, next to his window, Adrien smiles and explains, “I turned off the security in this area.”

Marinette nods. “Are you allowed to do that?”

The boy shrugs. “Nobody is home and I know the password.”

She nods again, but doesn’t say anything.

After a couple seconds of silence—Marinette just absorbing the fact she’s talking to her crush as Ladybug—Adrien inhales and asks, “Would you like to come in?”

She smiles faintly. “I’d like that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“No, I wasn’t hanging around in the city,” Ladybug tells him, chuckling a little as his comment. “Just patrolling.”

Adrien nods in understanding. “Hard work? Keeping Paris safe.”

“Not too bad.”

“That’s good.” Adrien taps his knee, wondering what he should say. “What else do you do?”

Ladybug raises her eyebrows (or at least he thinks she does, with the mask and all). “You mean besides being Ladybug?”

“Yeah,” Adrien answers, trying not to get his hopes up. He’s just a civilian; why would she tell the likes of him?

“Trying out different moisturizers.” At Adrien’s puzzled look, Ladybug laughs. “I’m actually over five thousand years old, didn’t you know?” After a beat, she grins. “Kidding.”

“You’re not actually _ten_ thousand years old, are you?”

“That would be an awfully long time,” Ladybug replies. “No,” she says, answering his question, “I’m not. Don’t tell anyone though.” Ladybug winks. “But I see you’ve kept up with LadyBlog.”

Adrien flushes. His eyes dart to the computer monitors behind him—one of them was on LadyBlog. _Crap._ He hadn’t closed the tab. “Uh…” he says intelligently. “Well, is it wrong to be curious?”

“No,” Ladybug says, smiling at him. The curve sends all sorts of flips through him. “I’m glad you’re interested.”

He grows hot. Is—is Ladybug _flirting_ with him? Oh, god. Adrien knows he’s a lot smoother as Chat Noir, that he’s able to throw back lines like they’re nothing. But he’s Adrien, and Adrien Agreste is doing nothing but burning under Ladybug’s gaze.

“Well, that and LadyBlog is fun to read,” Adrien tells in return, struggling with something to say to keep the conversation going.

“Hmm,” Ladybug responds, thoughtful. “I never really read it. I know the reporter though—Alya? I’ve done a couple interviews for her.”

“Yeah, I know.” Adrien grins, but then sort of freezes when he’s probably revealed just how much he keeps up with LadyBlog. Trying to cover that up, he blurts, “‘Cause I know the blogger! She goes to my school. She sits near me, actually.”

“Ah, you two close?”

“Not close,” he answers, “but enough. Maybe? My best friend is closer with her and you know—my friends are your friends. So sometimes they overlap with us.”

“They?”

“Her best friend—our class president.” Adrien notices the way Ladybug’s eyes flutter then widen. Good—he’ll use this chance to figure out if his suspicion is true. If Marinette _is_ Ladybug, or at least, if they have some sort of connection.

Ladybug taps her chin, pondering. “Best friend of Alya’s...oh! Marinette?”

Adrien narrows his eyes, trying to read her. “Yeah...you know her?”

“Kind of.” Ladybug adjusts herself on his pristine couch, tucking her hands beneath her thighs. “She’s a distant relative—we met once at a family party. I don’t know her well, but I did sent my partner to protect her once.”

That crossed Marinette off as a candidate then. Adrien sighed mentally. And here he thought he was one step closer. Though, Ladybug _did know_ Marinette—maybe he could ask her to introduce him to her? That would be a stretch, definitely. Ladybug had explained she didn’t know Marinette well.

“Your partner?” he asks, diverting back to their talk. “Chat Noir?” Adrien tries not to let his blush overtake him, to not let his heart soar. But this was his lady, and that was never possible with her.

“Yeah. He’s a reliable partner, though sometimes he can be a dork.” Ladybug’s grin grows fond, if not just a little sly. “Marinette said he did a relatively good job with the whole savior gig, but he could do without the ‘knight in shining armor’ act.” She giggles a bit. “He does go a little overboard sometimes.”

He does? That’s embarrassing. Though looking at Ladybug’s expression now, she’s not upset or annoyed—just affectionate. The thought makes his heart beat erratically.

 _Shoot._ Adrien went off track. He was asking about Marinette...A startling realization hits him. He’s practically been _stalking_ Marinette for the past couple days, hoping some indication of her relationship with Ladybug would reveal itself. In that sense, he’s broke Ladybug’s trust. She didn’t want him to know her alter ego, and here he was—trying to smoke her out with a conversation.

Not to mention, he had probably been a creeper to his poor classmate. _Sorry, Marinette,_ he grimaces internally. She had been intriguing, getting him caught along the current of the river. Part of Adrien couldn’t resist wanting to talk to her more, considering they so little of that in class.

Trying to go back to his conversation with Ladybug, Adrien goes for a small nod. “I see,” he says, almost completely forgetting what they were talking about before. Him, right? Kind of, anyways. “Speaking of which, you were patrolling the city, you said? Where’s Chat Noir?”

“Sleeping probably,” Ladybug replies with so much of a beat. She stretches on his couch, leaning back to rest her back. “Cat nap, you know?”

He laughs. Ladybug always groaned at his puns yet, she sat in front of him—whether she knew it or not—throwing them like he would. Adrien should congratulate the next time he saw her as Chat.

“He lazy?” Adrien falls back into the softness of the sofa as well. He looks ahead, enjoying the night sky view from his window, enjoying the night with her.

“ _No.”_ Ladybug’s tone is aghast, her eyes large. “No way. He’s Paris’ superhero—we can’t afford laziness.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” he amends quickly. Adrien meant it like a joke, considering he was Chat Noir, but he had temporarily forgotten how that would seem from Ladybug’s standpoint.

“It’s okay.”

They fall into that quiet silence again, and although neither of them say a word, Adrien can’t find himself to feel awkward. It’s comfortable, like it always is with Ladybug. Even _if_ it’s his first time being alone with her as Adrien, it still feels the same to him, transformed or not.

“Should you be going?” he asks, worried that her transformation time will run low. No matter how fast Ladybug is, or how skilled, she should still have apt time to travel home. Ladybug may live on the other side of Paris; he didn’t know. Point is, Adrien shouldn’t be hogging all her time.

“I should, actually.” Ladybug stands up, smoothing her hands over the suit covering her thighs. Adrien tries not to stare. She turns to him, smiling brightly. “I enjoyed this, thanks. Maybe a little irresponsible to take out of patrol…”

“But a great time spent, nevertheless?” Adrien can’t help but answering. He immediately felt a little embarrassed for saying so, but any mortification is smothered when Ladybug laughs good-heartedly. It’s a warm laughter. Soft. It fills his heart, his body.

So Adrien smiles. _Really_ smiles. He doesn’t smile like this as Adrien often; there isn’t usually anyone he can open up to fully, anyone who understands him as easily as Ladybug does. Maybe it was because they were always putting themselves in dangerous, life-risking situations was the sense of trust and understanding so strong and unrelenting.

“Bye, Ladybug,” he says, opening the window for her.

When he turns back to glance at her, Adrien is a little thrown to see Ladybug wearing a dust of flush on her cheeks, almost obscured by the edges of her mask, but not quite. Adrien quickly looks away, feeling as though he had intruded on something private, something he shouldn’t have seen, and stammers, “I’ll turn off the security again, so you can swing through without getting shocked or setting off alarms that will bring the police here.”

He sees Ladybug nod in the corner of her eyes. He replies with a curt nod of his own. Adrien opens the window in his room and then she's gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As Marinette flies home, her heart beat going a million kilometers a second, she briefly wonders if she revealed anything. Talking to Adrien as Ladybug— _oh,_ it had been _so_ nice, _so_ wonderful! But it had also been so _easy_ that Marinette had let her guard down. She might’ve unintentionally told Adrien that would unravel her secret identity!

The only nerve-wracking thing Marinette can recall, however, is when Adrien brought up her—Marinette. Her heart had flipped and flopped in all sorts of ways. He hadn’t even said her name and he had this effect on her! It wasn’t fair.

Thankfully, Ladybug is quick on making up lies on her feet. It’s something Marinette would greatly appreciate if she could do the same as, well, Marinette, but she can’t. Either way, when Adrien had asked her about her relationship with her alter ego, she was glad her trepidation hadn’t shown through her words and that she was able to throw out a lie.

She did tell Adrien more then necessary. Ladybug didn’t go out much, especially to converse with random civilians, but Adrien Agreste was anything but random. Her walls went down and before she knew it, Marinette was giving away more secrets than she’d ever been comfortable with Chat Noir! Though that wasn’t to say Adrien knew more than Chat Noir; he just learned more in a shorter period of time.

 _Oh,_ what that boy can do to her...

“Calm down, Marinette,” Tikki had said when she released her transformation as Marinette slipped through her trapdoor. Though Tikki was glimmering with happiness too. “You still have a couple math problems left! Try not to be too giddy and end up failing math.”

“I won’t fail!” Marinette happily spins when she makes it to the foot of her staircase. “I won’t fail, because— _Adrien!”_

Tikki sighs heavily. “At least go brush your teeth. Maybe that’ll help you regain your senses and form sentences that actually make sense.”

“Oh, Tikki, don’t be teasing.” She tapped her kwami’s head, who giggled. “He smiled at me— _smiled!_

¨Gosh,” Tikki playfully groaned. Her small hands pushed against the corner of her shoulder. ¨ _Go._ ¨

Go she did. Marinette practically bounced down the step, giggling when she pictured Adrienś smile in her head. He never smiled like that; she would know. Marinettes always watching him, not to mention always seeing the abundance of smiles plastered on the magazines she owns.

That smile...it was so real. Even if Adrien was a good model who can feign facial expressions easily, Marinette _knew_ that Adrien was really happy to be there with her—with Ladybug. His lips had never been stretched so wide before, at least not that Marinette could recall, in all the years she’s known him…

Marinette could barely concentrate on brushing her teeth. She dazedly stares at her reflection in the mirror, though her eyes are not on her. They were on a beautiful boy, a gorgeously handsome classmate.

“Marinette, the toothpaste!” Tikki buzzes. “Ah!”

She snaps out of it, almost brushing herself with her wet toothbrush. “Tikki!” she exclaims, noticing the blob of toothpaste that had fallen on the small kwami’s head. “I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the sprite grumbles, “whatever. You can have this small lapse of sanity because you just visited the boy of your dreams but I sure hope you’ll focus more later.”

Marinette grins sheepishly. “Okay, okay, Tikki.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ve decided,” declared Marinette as she set her bag down on her desk, “that Adrien Agreste _is_ flawless.”

Alya barely looks up from her phone. “Yeah...cool. Should we review reasons why that is a bad argument? Would you like to go through the powerpoint today or a word document?”

She ignores her best friend’s jab. “I’m serious. I’m convinced he’s perfect.”

“You know the saying…”

“...Yes, but seroiusly! Adrien is wonderful.”

“Aaaand opening the door.” Alya clicks her phone shut and places her hand on the table, her right looped around Marinette’s shoulders. “Wave high and don’t do anything stupid!”

Honestly, Alya shold know better.

“H- _hi,_ Adrien!” Marinette squeaks, knowing a foolish grin is taking place on her face. She jerks her hand back and forth awkwardly, with the small hope that it can pass as a wave. Marinette tries not to think about how amazing Adrien was when she visited last night. That’ll just affect her emotions entirely too much.

“Good morning, Marinette,” Adrien replies politely, if not a little scared by her. His eyebrows are pinched worriedly and Marinette wants to hit herself for being so weird again.

“How was your evening?” Alya, her forever best friend, helps continuning the conversation. Unbeknownst to her, she is helping _generously._ Marinette watches Adrien’s reaction with anticipation, desperately wondering what he thought of Ladybug.

“Oh...absolutely great.” A large smile forms on Adrien’s face and Marinette wills her heart to stop beating so loudly. Adrien might hear! “It was fantastic.”

Alya laughs. “Sounds you had a good time. Do anything fun?”

“I did some extra research on chemistry—really productive.” Marinette is _burning._ Could it be? Did Adrien have a _crush_ on Ladybug? He wouldn’t be the first...Ladybug _was_ this courageous, engimatic superhero, after all.

“Chemistry? The physics nerd stepping out of his field? Isn’t that surprising, Marinette?” Alya asks her, nudging her on.

Marinette nods frantically, unable to do anything else. She’s not even going to bother saying anything here; she knows she’ll screw it up, what with this theory of Adrien’s _crush._

Alya’s eyes frown, trying to convey to Marinette to push herself more to talk to Adrien, though her feelings were absent from anywhere else on her face.

“Yeah, well, it’s good to explore more right?”

“Morning!” Nino shouts loudly, interrupting their converastion. He takes his seat amiably next to Adrien, fist bumping his best friend. “You look happy.”

“I am happy. In fact, I am _very_ happy.”

“ _Really,_ now? Why—no, don’t tell me, let me guess.”

The boys fall into a series of hushed whispers and smirks and knowing looks—everything Marinette can’t really decipher. She sends a look to Alya, who seems like she wants to know, but replies with a shrug. “They’re in their own world.” The blogger rolls her eyes. “Boys.”

Marinette laughs. “It’s okay. Thanks for the help though.”

She groans. “Marinette, you didn’t even take the chance! Honeslty, what are you going to do with this”—Alya pokes her upper left chest a little harshly—“if you won’t even _try_ to talk to him?”

“I do _try,_ ” protests Marinette. Alya gives her a disbeliving look. “I _do!”_

“Okay, girl, whatever you say.” Alya snaps her fingers suddenly, startling Marinette. “We have gym today! Did you bring your uniform?” Last time Marinette had forgotten, and needed to run laps as punishment. It wasn’t bad, but it _was_ humiliating.

“Yes,” Marinette answers, mentally thanking Tikki for reminding her. Becoming a superhero had benefits in more ways than one.

“Good, because you wouldn’t want to suffer any reprimands today. With the new unit and all.”

Marinette looks at her best friend, puzzled. “Why?”

“I heard from another class what new unit we’re starting—wrestling.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Frankly, Marinette isn’t too great at sports.

She’s clumsy for one. She doesn’t have hand-eye-coordination. She has probably hit Alya in the face with _who knows_ how many balls.

But wrestling doesn’t require any coordination with balls, just coordination with her body. And that’s something she _definitely_ has. For all her clumsiness, she thinks she’s rather graceful as Ladybug (something she thanks her Miraculous for, _every time_ ). She may not be as strong when Tikki isn’t merged with her earrings, but Marinette likes to think that her training as Ladybug has improved her body strength.

So when they entered the gym later that day, Marinette was ecstatic. _Finally! Something that I won’t make a fool out of myself._

Alya—not so much.

“Jeez, Marinette, calm down!” Alya says, slipping off her shoes quickly to catch up with her best friend. Marinette had already kicked off hers, running inside with unabadoned glee. Alya hastily movedg both their shoes to the corner so they don’t make a mess at the doorway. “It’s only _wrestling._ Who ever thought you would be excited about sports.”

“Only _some_ sports, Alya!” she corrects. “Isn’t it exciting, though, to punches, kicks, all of that?”

“And risk the possibility of breaking my neck? _No._ Besides, they’re obvioulys not going to teach us how to _punch_ or _kick._ That wouldn’t be very friendly for school.”

Marinette’s ready to retort when she hears Nino shout, “Dude! Need deodorant?”

She turns to the direction of Nino’s voice to find the boy and his best friend entering the gym. Adrien has a sheepish smile on his face. “I guess I wear sneakers too often.”

“ _Maybe,_ ” Nino agrees sarcastically. “What, do you not change your socks or something?”

Marinette realizes that Nino’s talking about Adrien’s feet and probably it’s smell. Which is shocking because Adrien’s a _model_ so he probably changes his clothes quite frequently.

“See?” whispers Alya, nudging her, “an imperfection.”

Marinette turns her head away, holding it slightly higher, refusing to give in to Alya’s protests and starts walking towards the large obstacles. “Stinky feet is hardly a significant imperfection.”

“But an imperfection, nonetheless,” finishes Alya, walking with her, ignoring Marinette’s eye roll.

“An imperfection hardly says anything.” She gives her best friend a look. “ _No one is perfect.”_

“I know what _I_ said, you dork,” Alya says, shoving her friend a little. “ _You’re_ the one who _said_ he was perfect! I’m hoping you’re coming to your senses. It’ll fix your stammering issues.”

“A perfect boy with imperfect feet.” Marinette laughs. “As if _feet_ will be the downfall to my stuttering.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay practice with a partner of your choice; make sure you are _comfortable_ with them! That is why I am letting _you_ choose,” the instructor demands, snapping her fingers rapidly. The strictness of her voice pushes all the students in the gym to scramble and find someone to work with for the next exercise. They had just finished learning the basics and were moving on to working with a partner. “Up and at ‘em!” she hollers.

“Alya—”

“Uh, obviously,” Alya says, holding out her hand. Marinette giggles when she takes it. “Though you better _not_ break my neck. You may be eager to _wrestle,_ but I’m not.”

Marinette pouts. “You’re always acing ever racquet sport out there, can’t you let me have some fun? You know how shoddy I am with balls.”

“Yes, I do,” Alya winks. Her eyes direct to Adrien.

“ _Alya!”_

Her best friend erupts with laughter, so loud that it only contaminates Marinette as well.

 _“Girls!”_ the coach roars at them. They both stiffen and slowly turn to look. “Are you practicing?”

“N-no,” Marinette answers. “We’re sorry.”

“Then get to it!”

Both of them drops to their knees, frantically trying out the exercise the coach had taught five minutes prior. Marinette is hyperaware of the gaze on her, and attempts to throw Alya over. The girl was crouched down, Marinette above her. From her experience as Ladybug, she’s done this plenty of times so Marinette knew exactly what to do. She hooked her leg around her ankle, arms around Alya’s torso, head tucked under. Driving her force below Alya, Marinette threw her best friend over.

“And this,” groans Alya, “is why I was _not_ excited for wrestling.” She rubs her shoulder. “You did pretty good on your first try.”

“Yeah…” Marinette says, knowing she couldn’t very well tell Alya her experience with actual fighting. “Beginner’s luck.

“You want me to go next?”

“We are supposed to switch. Okay.”

Being under is not a comfortable situation. It reminds Marinette too much about the times she’s weakened under an akuma’s attack, accidentally let the akumatized victim slip through and gain advantage. When Alya’s arm slip around her in an attempt to throw Marinette over, her instincts kick in, and before she knows it, Marinette had her best friend pinned below her.

“Jeez, Marinette! I thought we were working on just this exercise, not _actual_ brawling!”

“Ah!” scrambles Marinette, trying to pull Alya up from prone position. “Sorry, sorry, _sorry!”_

“Yeah, you should be.” Alya rubs her stomach. “I let _you_ throw me over first and now you’re tackling me? I thought you were my _friend.”_ She grins, letting Marinette know Alya is only joking. The superhero breathes a sigh of relief.

“I’m really sorry, Alya. I guess it was just reflex.”

“Some reflex. I guess you’ll pass the self-defense unit easily.”

Marinette doesn’t tell Alya that she’s excited for that. Marinette doesn’t tell Alya how she’s mentally reminding herself to tone it down with her innate superhero abilities either.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“For a small girl, she can pack a punch.”

Adrien glances at Nino. He gulps down some water from his bottle. The two friends are exiting the gym, following everyone else to go back to the lockers. Adrien waits behind with Nino so that the crowd around the entrance of the doorway can disperse. “I guess. Marinette’s not that small though. And she didn’t punch Alya, just pinned her.”

“Either way,” Nino shrugs. “We didn’t even learn that yet. It’s our first day of class!” Nino walks ahead of Adrien, picking up his own shoes. Unlike Adrien, who always tied his shoelaces so tightly he needed to unwound and wound them to put them on, Nino easily slips his feet in his. “I wonder where Marinette got those moves.”

Adrien crouches down to pick up his own sneaker. The shoelaces are already undone, so he simply loosens them more to fit his feet in. Grimacing, he had to agree with Nino. His feet _does_ smell a bit, but not as much as Nino exaggerated it to be. “I don’t know,” he replies. “Maybe martial arts?”

“Hmm...maybe.” Nino is leaning against the doorway, waiting for his best friend to finish typing his shoes. Adrien picks up his pace, guilty for making him wait so long. They still need to change too. “Y’know, I never pegged Marinette to be good at martial arts, wrestling, whatever. She can be clumsy sometimes.”

“She could just be fond of fighting.” Nino laughs and Adrien grins as they walk to the locker room together. “Marinette can be pretty fierce.”

“You got that right. Marinette is the type of person to fight for what she believes in.”

That statement reminds Adrien of Ladybug, who always argued with akumatized victims and tried to convince them that what they were doing was wrong, even though they had no control over their minds. Maybe it was because of Ladybug’s recent visit that had him thinking that, but Adrien’s thoughts had drifted there, nonetheless. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that Marinette was somehow related to Ladybug, despite Ladybug’s claim that they were very distant relatives. There had to be something more.

Then again, that feeling _could_ only be because of Adrien’s desperate desire to know Ladybug’s identitiy. He needed to stop. Adrien had promised Ladybug and himself to wait until she was comfortable with him knowing.

He should repress this desire of his.


End file.
